In Which Scolding Never Works
by DXRULES103
Summary: James Bond and Michael Stone have been through hell and back together. And one of their favorite times happened when they were reprimanded. It was pure fun.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own James Bond, but I do own Michael Stone.

**Summary: **James Bond and Michael Stone have been through hell and back together. And one of their favorite times happened when they were reprimanded. It was pure fun.

**A/N**: I hope you all enjoy this next installment in my Michael Stone and James Bond series. And if you want more with them that is longer and adds Alec Trevelyan than my _**Whatever Tomorrow Brings **_is the right story for you. Reviews greatly appreciated!

_**In Which Scolding Never Works**_

Michael Stone sat beside his best friend and partner in crime James Bond in an American embassy in the Czech Republic.

They were being reprimanded and scolded profusely by representatives of their superiors: Mother, the Dean, and M.

One representative was leaning against the wall near the window, arms folded and his brilliant eyes were so brilliant that only meant he was wearing contacts were glaring at the two agents who respectively worked for the CIA and MI6. He had dirty blonde hair, a small frame, and a very big nose. He was Marshall Block, an American.

Another representative was standing in the corner looking tired and irritated. He had a bigger frame than Block; he also had black as coal eyes, and thick brown hair. He was the British representative, Jensen Forte.

The third and final representative was for both the American and British intelligence. He was sitting behind a large wooden desk and had a pencil in his had which he was playing with. He was hazel eyed, tanned, and had the brightest blonde hair that Stone and Bond have ever seen in their lives. He was the man behind the large desk with an air of authority. He was Officer Brett McCorman the liaison of both the Americans and the British.

McCorman was currently listing the many atrocities that the two friends have committed.

"Blackmailing a respectable politician…" McCorman said with fury.

Michael huffed. He knew that charge was plain stupid.

"Respectable isn't a right word or name to put on a politician." James translated. "After all, blackmailing is in their job description – even in their blood. So what we did wasn't so horrible."

The brilliant blue eyed man called Block replied heatedly, "What is horrible is that the politician in question happens to not have committed the crimes that you convinced him that he did."

"This brings out another offense… bribing and framing innocent people." McCorman added.

James shrugged. The accusations the three reps were giving them were off every mark.

"Guilty until proven innocent." Michael replied in a matter of fact tone.

James glanced at his friend and sniggered. He noticed in the corner of his yes the furious expressions on the representatives' faces.

He decided to mention it to Stone. "I think it's the other way around," he replied.

Michael shook his head. "It's not vice-versa, James. No one is really innocent – unless if one is a child, but as for the said people that we supposedly mistreated – I doubt that they are innocent or we wouldn't have done what we did. Ergo…guilty until proven innocent." Michael explained with assurance.

James nodded. "I see…" he simply said.

"You have a strange sense of logic, Mr. Stone." Forte said. "That isn't your say. It's a judge's say."

Michael smiled cheekily as he turned to face his friend. "I've impersonated a judge before," he admitted.

James looked back at his partner in crime. "Really?" he asked with curiosity and a sense of growing amusement. "Wig and all?"

"Everything: big robes, stern face, and no undergarments."

"Comfy?"

"Quite."

James laughed.

"Disobeying a direct order." McCorman continued. His eyes showed his annoyance over Bond's and Stone's banter and their lack of concern or regard over being chastised. "Disobeying countless direct orders."

James and Michael returned their attention to the man behind the desk with seriousness and amusement on their faces.

"What direct order?" Michael asked, mocking confusion. He looked at James and said, "Did you get a direct order? Because I didn't receive anything nor did I hear anything that concerned a _direct _order."

"Nope, I didn't hear anything – least of all a call or letter or voice giving us a direct _order_." James said with a shake of his head.

"Don't be smartasses!" growled McCorman. He threw the pencil at James and Michael; not really aiming on whom the object would hit.

Fortunately, the two friends both moved their bodies to the side and missed the flying sharp object that was a pencil.

"Well…somebody's in a pissy mood." Michael remarked in avid amusement. He was thoroughly enjoying his reprimands. "I swear that was a hissy fit," he added softly to James.

James nodded. He looked at McCorman in mock hurt. "We're not asses," he argued.

McCorman rolled his eyes as Block replied, "Then what are you two?" It wasn't a question that he was interested in getting an answer for, and it was surely not a question he wanted answered, but he would not get his wish.

"That's easy." Michael said confidently and with an affirmative nod. He made a movement with his index finger to indicate that he was speaking for himself and Bond. "We do believe that our intelligence extends farth -" He corrected himself quickly thanks to Bond's informative pinch. "– extends to the same level that you three are in. So, your statement is partly true, but as for our asses…"

"We would like to think that any part of our body - including our so called smart - asses is seen as quite exceptional to anybody with encounter – especially persons of the opposite sex." James finished, earning himself an agreeing look from Michael.

Block shook his head in utter amazement at the lack of concern that Bond and Stone had with their reprimands as McCorman continued listing the long list.

"Failure to communicate back to a superior such as myself and the two behind me."

James cocked an eyebrow. "Failure to communicate…," he muttered. Then his eyes went wide in recognition, and he snickered. "What he get that from _Cool Hand Luke_?" he asked Michael.

"He couldn't paraphrase it." Michael deadpanned, trying to hold in his laughter.

Forte growled, "Behaving irresponsibly and sophomorically as if you two are still teenagers – or better yet – children!"

Michael clasped James' shoulder as his friend gasped. "How dare you!" he cried in a half mocking and half playful tone. "Accusing us of childlike and teen-like behavior!"

James frowned at his friend. He looked at Stone in mock hurt. "What's wrong with acting like children and teenagers?" he asked.

Michael blinked. "Nothing's wrong with that inner behavior," he replied, trying to defend himself.

"Well, good! You should know better…" James hissed in a good natured way. He looked back at the three representatives. He bent his head to the side. "You can continue with the listing," he said.

Michael frowned, but reversed that into a smile. "Yeah, why not?" he said. He motioned his hands. "Continue listing and we'll be listening!"

James grinned at the word "listening" because he knew that he and Stone wouldn't be doing that.

"Losing five important documents that belonged solely to our ally, France." McCorman continued.

"The French aren't that great," James muttered to Michael.

Michael nodded. "Surrendering and all," he added.

McCorman continued as though they haven't even spoken. "Locking a higher official in a freezer…"

"We didn't lock him." Michael argued.

James agreed. "He got stuck in there."

"Damaging countless properties…."

James looked at Michael. "Did we damage anything?"

Michael rubbed his face. He thought back on what they did a few days ago. "Umm…" he mumbled. He was at lost.

"I take that as a no." James replied, satisfied.

"Forging signatures that didn't need to be forged…"

"What kind of crime is that? That's what we do… You're an idiot." Michael said with a tone of irritation.

James put a hand on his shoulder. "Easy, not many idiots think that they're idiots."

"You have a point." Michael realized.

"I always do."

"And lastly, unjust killings…"

Those four words made James and Michael really pay attention.

"Excuse me?" Michael gasped. "Did you just say that we killed unjustly?" He looked at James. "Did I hear that right or was it just me?"

James glared at McCorman. "I think he meant what he said," he replied.

"Did you mean what you said?" James asked, but before McCorman could answer Michael said, "Yeah, he knew what he said. He damn well meant it."

James and Michael looked at each other then back at the three representatives of their higher superiors.

"We don't work for you two." James plainly said. He walked to the door and opened it.

Before any of the three could protest, Michael said, "It's called _license to kill_."

With that the two friends left the room with smiles on their faces.

"Want to buy a beer?" Michael asked.

"What size?" James replied.

"How 'bout a pint for you…" Michael answered with a grin.

James grinned a grin that was similar to Michael's and replied, "And a gallon for you…"

**The End.**

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**End-note: **I hope you all enjoyed. Please review!


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